


once more to see you

by flibbertygigget



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble Sequence, F/F, Femslash February 2019, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 23:52:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17693567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbertygigget/pseuds/flibbertygigget
Summary: Fleur Delacour is beautiful and graceful and everything Millicent is not.Millicentwantsher.





	once more to see you

one – opposites

Fleur Delacour is beautiful.

That isn’t a surprise from a part-Veela. It’s a romance novel cliché, the part-Veela rival who is pretty and graceful and all you ever wanted to be. At the end of the story, she is defeated by a well-executed makeover and the revelation that the witch-heroine is less petty and more human than her rival.

Millicent will never defeat Fleur Delacour with a makeover. According to some rumors, she will never defeat her in humanity either. But Millicent doesn’t want to defeat her or even to be her, not like in the novels.

Millicent _wants_ her.

 

two – pink

“That scarf’s new,” Pansy says. Millicent adjusts it awkwardly. It’s a flimsy little thing that cost her every Galleon she’d saved.

“Oh, yeah,” she says. “I’m just, you know, trying something new.” She glimpses Fleur Delacour coming out of the Great Hall and stands a little taller. Pansy follows her gaze, and then she looks at Millicent pityingly.

“Oh, Millie,” she says. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for the Veela.” Millicent flushes bright red.

“I’m just trying something new,” she repeats. Pansy shakes her head.

“I’d give it up if I were you,” she says. “Pink just isn’t your color.”

 

three – lost

“ _Excusez-moi_?” Millicent’s head whips away from the Quidditch shop window. Sure enough, it’s Fleur Delacour, looking even more beautiful with her cheeks flushed light pink and her hair made wild by the cold wind.

“Fl – De – Fl-“ Millicent shuts her mouth, trying to untie her tongue. “Hey,” she finishes lamely.

“ _Excusez-moi,_ I ‘ave been trying to find _Madame_ Puddilifoot’s,” Fleur Delacour says in her lilting French accent. “Would you be so kind ahs to show me the way? I ‘ave – how you say? - _un rendez-vous_?”

“A date,” Millicent says hopelessly, feeling her heart break. “I’ll show you the way.”

 

four – café

“Did you know,” Fleur says as they walk through Hogsmeade, “that in French coffee is _café_?” Millicent nods helplessly. “ _Mère d'Oberon,_ you know French?”

“Only a little,” Millicent says. “Um, _je connais un peu le français_.” Fleur laughs brightly.

“ _Un tout petit_ ,” she says, “but it is no matter. I know enough English for communication, no?” Millicent nods again. “I have no great love for English tea. I much prefer _café_.”

“Madam Puddifoot’s has coffee, too,” Millicent says. And then, as casually as she can manage, “Um, who’re you meeting there?” Fleur laughs again.

“Why, you of course, _mon amie_.”

 

five – sharp

Madam Puddifoot’s is precisely the sort of place that Millicent hates. The chairs are spindly, the china delicate, and the décor girlish. Millicent feels like she really is part-troll, especially when contrasted with Fleur Delacour, but she can’t bring herself to care.

After all, Fleur is there with _her_.

“And so zat is when _Mademoiselle_ Parkinson told me zat you were in love with me,” Fleur says. Millicent drops her teacup in shock, and it promptly shatters on its saucer. Millicent tries to pick it up, but a hand on her wrist stops her.

“Careful!” Fleur says. “It is sharp.”

 

six – the moon

It’s easy to get around past curfew at Hogwarts. There are dozens of doors besides the ones in the Great Hall: the side doors that the First Years use before being Sorted, a freight door leading to the kitchens, a few not-so-hidden passages.

The one Millicent often uses opens on the crest of the steep hill overlooking the greenhouses. It’s a simple matter to pick her way down, especially on a night like tonight, when every corner of the castle grounds is illuminated.

Especially on a night like tonight, when Fleur’s hair glows like a beacon beneath the full moon.

 

seven – disaster

“There will be a ball at _Noel_ ,” Fleur says. “I am a champion. I must invite a guest to dance with me.”

“Lucky guy,” Millicent grumbles. Fleur touches her hand gently.

“Well, I was going to ask you, _mon amie_ , but if you would rather not…” Millicent stares, and Fleur smirks.

“Why would you want to go with me? I’m-“

“What? A girl?”

“That and troll-ugly.” Fleur sniffs.

“Anyone who counts the first and believes the latter is unworthy of our time, that is all. You are good-looking enough for me.” Millicent groans.

“This is going to be a disaster.”


End file.
